


Your eyes are like an ocean (but I don't know how to surf).

by Noa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Surfstuck, happy birthday ket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noa/pseuds/Noa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bro surfs, Dave surfs, and Dirk admires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your eyes are like an ocean (but I don't know how to surf).

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ket3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ket3/gifts).



The waves are bad.

Dirk has no idea why, but Bro and Dave have been looking particularly sour all day. Dirk glances across the shore, and by the looks of it, his brothers aren’t the only surfers disappointed by today’s weather. Bro returns to the van parked at a safe distance from the water, holding his board under his arm like it’s his heart. He shakes his head when Dave looks at him.

“Flatter than my damn board,” Bro sighs, and Dave pulls a face that’s part sympathy, part annoyance. “Not even worth paddling in. Line-up’s dissipating as we speak.”

“Lame.”

Dirk looks from one brother to the other as they exchange complaints. Despite having lived with two surfers for the entire 19 years of his life, Dirk still understands jackshit about this world of theirs. Bro even made it his work; three days a week, he instructs anyone willing to learn. Starting last Summer, Dave’s been helping him out. He’s not nearly as experienced as Bro, but he’s definitely above average, and that makes him good enough to correct people’s stances and give general tips. He doesn’t always get taken seriously (which is probably caused by his small stature), but anyone who’s seen him in action is glad to take his advice.

Dirk’s seen Dave in action plenty of times. He’s often been charged with the task of filming his younger brother hitting the waves, most videos ending up on various social media websites. Boring as it may sound, it’s not something Dirk minds doing, as it provides him with an excuse for why he’s not out there trying to catch waves himself. He’d film Bro as well, but Bro prefers pictures for his website, and Dave’s usually the one taking care of that. Dirk remembers watching Dave unwrap his camera from at least fifty different tea towels, terrified of getting sand anywhere near his ‘child’. Dirk has a hard time seeing the issue, as both Bro and Dave are all but made up out of sand by now. He never has to worry about losing either of them: there are always clear sand trails to show him the way.

Dave sits down next to Dirk, and lets himself fall back against the sand as he stares up at a clear blue sky.

“I still think you should try it,” Dave says, but before Dirk can reply, Bro pipes in.

“Even the whitewater’s sparse bro.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh it is. Dirk, have you checked the map yet? Starting to think we’re wasting our time waiting for some surf around here.”

Dirk reaches back inside the van and pulls out his laptop. He scowls as it takes him a while to connect to the internet, but once he does, satellite views of the beach are quickly pulled up. Bro leans against the van and looks down at the monitor, before sighing in defeat. Dave sits up.

“Wasn’t the forecast really good? I figured that’s why it was a damn zoo earlier.”

“Yeah,” Dirk says, fingers fast on the keyboard as he zooms in and switches between different views. Dave grunts as he makes his way over to Dirk’s other side, using Dirk’s shoulder for support as he tries to look at the maps as well. His brows furrow in confusion; Dave has no idea what he’s looking at.

“So what changed?” He makes an effort not to sound too dumb. Checking the weather is Dirk’s thing, Dave just surfs.

“Most of the noise dissolved. It happens,” Dirk answers, and Bro scoffs.

“Fucking weather people. Can’t trust them for shit. What’s a man gotta do to make a living around here.”

 _Maybe get a real job._ Dirk thinks, wisely keeping his thoughts to himself.

“That’s it. We’re blowing this popsicle stand,” Bro decides, and he begins to gather whatever stuff they had lying outside of the van.

Dave heaves a heavy sigh, and climbs past Dirk into the back of the car. Dirk helps Bro strap the boards up to the roof, and when he gets back inside, Dave has pulled on one of Dirk’s hoodies over his (unusually dry) wetsuit. Bro nags them about buckling up, and then they’re off. Dirk takes a moment before he comments on Dave’s apparel.

“You really need to start bringing your own clothes.”

“I don’t want to get sand in them.”

“And getting sand in my clothes is fine?” Dirk frowns, but then his brother summons the sweetest apologetic smile he’s seen in a while, and the disapproval on Dirk’s face melts away. He huffs quietly, and turns to look out of the car window. “Whatever.”

Dirk finds his hoodie returned to him later that night, the article of clothing tossed carelessly onto Dirk’s desk chair. He picks it up with a sigh, and pats it down for any lingering sand. Initially, he brings the hoodie to his face to check if it’s clean enough to come along for another beach trip (no one likes doing laundry), but when he inhales, he smells Dave’s shampoo, and Dirk closes his eyes.

Dirk and Dave were pretty close, even for brothers. Dirk was very serious about his one year advantage on Dave, and used it as a reason to look after his ‘baby’ brother as much as Bro would let him. They’d build sand castles while Bro surfed, dig dams to keep the water from flooding their sandy homes. When Dave turned twelve, he found his home was in the waves rather than on the shore. Dirk watched from behind his castles as Dave disappeared into the ocean, and felt a sadness he couldn’t really explain.

Dirk figured it was some kind of jealousy. When he told Bro to take him out to surf as well, Bro was a bit surprised, but didn’t ask.

Dirk tried the best he could to learn. His board on the sand, he practiced his stance; the whitewater nearly rendered his pale skin invisible. Dirk could feel Dave’s eyes on him as he tried and tried again, only to fail continuously, and that’s when Dirk realized the strange feeling in his heart didn’t come from his inability to surf.

It came from Dave.

Dirk never had to come along whenever Bro and Dave went out to the beach. Bro made sure Dirk had plenty of other opportunities to pursue his interests, and not once has Dirk felt left out for his lack of a wetsuit.

Dirk insisted on joining his brothers, though.

He brought his laptop and spent hours looking at various weather forecasts, estimated high and low tides, and provided pretty much any kind of information that could help Bro and Dave do what they love most. Dirk found that he rather liked being a part of their passion like this. Whenever Bro came back from the waves to take a break, he’d ruffle Dirk’s hair and grin as Dirk shielded his laptop from the stray drops of water clinging to Bro’s skin.

Dirk admired Bro in a different way than Dave did. To Dave, Bro was an idol, a mentor, an instructor. He could spend hours ranting to Dirk about the way Bro carved into waves, how he could make swirls most surfers wouldn’t even dare to line up for, and all of that on a short stick, too. Dirk would sit in the sun and listen, nodding his head at appropriate intervals as he counted the freckles dusted across Dave’s cheekbones. He didn’t see Bro the way his younger sibling did.

There was no lack of admiration on Dirk’s part, though. Dirk admired the way Bro fell into his stance like it was second nature. How his muscles flexed when he lifted himself up his board. How his eyes sparkled with adrenaline whenever he nearly escaped getting wrecked by a breaking curl. His wide, victorious grin when other surfers came around for a high-five every time Bro managed to pull two consecutive 360s.

How the water slid off his tanned skin like it was caressing him, reluctant to abandon his warmth and disappear into the sand. How his boardshorts sat low enough to show most of his hipbones.

How he bit his lip while waxing his board; It kept Dirk up with daydreams at night.

The waves are better later that week.

The sun is hot, but not as hot as the rush Dirk feels when he helps tape up Bro’s shoulder. Not as hot as the flush Dave’s grin brings to Dirk’s cheeks. For a moment, Dirk seriously considers following his brothers into the water, if only to cool himself down a little. He doesn’t though, instead resigning to his usual staring by the shore.

When Dave comes running to hug out adrenaline after making a particularly heavy wave, Dirk keeps his hands around Dave’s waist a bit longer than necessary, offering congratulations to Dave’s excited boasting.

Looking past Dave towards the ocean, Dirk finds Bro closer than he expected, staring right back at him- Dirk startles, and quickly turns away. He thinks he sees Bro smile in the corner of his vision.

The beach grows quiet with the oncoming tide and the chill of dusk. The sun hangs low enough to cast a golden glow on Dirk and Dave as they sit by the van and look out towards the water.

Dave, once again in Dirk’s hoodie, rests his head against Dirk’s arm and closes his eyes, clearly exhausted from today’s waves. Dirk carefully brushes the sand off Dave’s fingers while he watches Bro wrap up the final class of the evening. The breeze feels pleasant on his skin, and Dirk’s eyelids feel heavy.

“Where’s a camera when you need one.”

Dirk opens his eyes to Bro’s gentle comment, and Dave stirs at his side, covering his mouth with his palm as he yawns. Bro snorts.

“I think it’s time for the children to go to bed,” he jokes, and Dirk frowns.

“Take us home then old man,” Dave murmurs, rubbing his eyes with hands brushed clean of sand.

Bro smiles, but he makes no move to gather his things or get inside the van. Instead, he sits down at Dirk’s other side and mimics Dave as he leans against him. He reaches across Dirk to poke at Dave’s cheek, and Dave scowls, trying to bat Bro’s hand away. Dirk doesn’t say a word when Bro catches Dave’s hand, and their fingers intertwine.

Their joined hands rest in Dirk’s lap, and Dirk looks from Bro, to Dave, to find both of them looking back at him.

“We have to tell you something,” Dave says softly. Bro hums in agreement, and it’s like someone’s dragging a finger down Dirk’s spine. It takes Dirk a few seconds to realize that feeling is actually Dave’s free hand, lightly touching his back, drawing big, lopsided circles with his fingertips.

“Oh.” Dirk’s throat feels like he swallowed a handful of sand. Bro and Dave let go of the other’s hand and seek out Dirk’s hands instead. Somehow, Dirk thinks he knows what they mean to say.

He closes his eyes, his brothers lean in, and when their warmth submerges him like he’s being tossed into the ocean, Dirk finds himself regretting that he never learned how to surf.


End file.
